World War Z: Surviving the Fellowship
by Chaprap21
Summary: "Bill the Downer," a retired welder, recounts the never-before-told story of how he survived the notorious religiously fanatical cult, The Fellowship of the Pure, situated in Kanorado, Kansas.


**South Gate, California, USA**

**[It's a busy night at the local bar, "Auggie's Tavern." I sit down and share a drink with the retired welder "Bill the Downer," of both shots and attitude, as the local patrons explain. He has asked me to simply refer to him as "Bill." He's reluctant at first when informed of the nature of my work, but starts to open up after his eleventh shot of cognac and gin. Though only thirty-two, Bill's hair already has many grey hairs on his unkempt beard. The stories of his journey from the East Coast to the Rockies are well-known among the locals, as he usually draws in a crowd when recounting his many adventures out east, as he did that night. He tells me in private that if I wanted to hear a "better story," we had to go back to his apartment across the street. His living space has all that an apartment should have: a single bedroom, a living room with a sofa and lounge chair, a coffee table, a TV, a kitchen, a bathroom, and decent lighting. He has a few books lying around the floor and an old desktop computer, but nothing more in terms of entertainment and nothing of luxury. He walks over to his fridge and takes a six-pack of Budweiser, a brand of beer that had just come back into production five months prior to now.]**

I try to keep my living expenses to a minimum. Work as a welder pays well, especially with the fat pension they gave me after my work up in the Bay Area was done1, but living out there in the thick of it all those years ago taught me that I don't need a lot to live. I kind of had that minimalist way of thinking before the war with Zack, but I doubt you want to hear about all that. Want one?

**[I decline.]**

C'mon, man. You only had one shot back at the bar. You're going to make me feel like an alcoholic drinking by myself.

**[I take the beer he had already opened. He opens another bottle and takes a sip as he sits down on the old lounge chair. I sit down on the sofa across from him.]**

I never trusted televangelists. I always saw them as a bunch of camera whores who came into God's light for profit. Many of them got loaded with all that cash flowing in from their good followers' pockets, like that Creflo Dollar. Bought a whole private jet with the money his church collected.2 Fucking con artists, all of them. My mom was a real Jesus freak and loved watching his sermons every Sunday. "A truly godly man," she used to say. Those phonies had always had a history of scandals: domestic abuse, hookers and blow, sexual assault, faggotry, you name it. As well-versed as she was in the good book, she never thought to be wary of the wolves in sheep's cloth.

_**Does any of that relate to this "better story?"**_

I'm getting to it.

**[He takes a drink of his beer.]**

Nine months after leaving Kentucky, I—

_**Actually, would you mind giving just a quick summary of how you got back from the east back to the west? For context.**_

Alright, then. **[There is a tone of annoyance in his voice.]** I left Liberty University in Virginia once it turned out "African Rabies" wasn't rabies at all. I settled at one of them refugee camps in Richmond, Kentucky, but left after the shit-show at Yonkers and just before the panic-induced rioting in Richmond, thank God for that. After hopping my way through every "safe zone" in the Midwest, rationing my meals to only 1,000 calories a day, I eventually I made my way to a settlement at Leadville, Colorado where I worked as an assistant welder to an old mechanic named Vern. The guy was a hardass, but he taught me well, God rest his soul. When the war in the U.S. was won, I joined the DeStRes Program to train welders and was employed to help with the restoration of the Golden Gate Bridge. That good enough for you, boss?

_**That's fine, thank you.**_

Now as I was saying, it had already been nine months since I left Kentucky. I was maybe fifty miles away from the Kansas-Colorado border. Zack were everywhere on the I-70, so I laid low inside an old Kum & Go gas station for the night. **[He chuckles as he repeats "Kum & Go" under his breath.]** I had no food left. I had to give my last can of peaches to some loony waving an M1911 at me five days before. Fucker made it off with my bike and pocket knife too. I was starving and severely dehydrated. I don't remember much from that night, but I must have passed out for a while, because when I finally came to, I was in this makeshift infirmary in an old church. There was a woman by my side dressed in all-white clothes. She called others over, also in white, and then a man in a nice suit with a golden cross pendant walked to my bedside. He was greybearded, maybe in his mid-fifties, with these warm, inviting blue eyes, and an equally warm smile. Handsome fella, I admit. I thought he looked familiar but I couldn't put my finger on it. He told me I was out for two days. "I'm glad to see you're alright," he then told me. "God has blessed us with a new lamb to add to our Heavenly flock." His voice sounded a lot like Bing Crosby's, smooth and crooner like. He held my hand and the woman's next to me and both said a prayer for my full recovery while the others bowed their heads. At that moment, I knew who he was. **[His expression becomes hard with resentment] **Keith Fitzgerald, the same fucking televangelist that gave sermons from eight to ten in the morning on the Christian Broadcasting Network my mom loved so much.

_**Keith Fitzgerald, the leader of the Fellowship of the Pure Cult in Kanorado?**_

Bingo. Did you know he was once charged with molesting one of the daughters of a member of his church in Chicago back in '98? He was acquitted for lack of evidence. **[He takes a large swig of his beer and jabs his finger at me.] **If you ask me, he probably had one of his Chicago politician buddies make sure the incident didn't make national news; he was a well-connected man, you see. Corrupt bastards, all those Chicago fucks.

**[Bill finishes the last of his first beer and then opens another.]**

The Fellowship believed some shit about God casting down "the plague," as they called it, to wipe the world clean of sinners, while only those who followed God's Word—and, of course, Fitzgerald's word—would be spared from it.

When I felt I'd recovered enough, I thanked them for their hospitality and told them I was ready to leave. I didn't want to be there any longer than I had to, but Fitzgerald said that valuable IV bags were used on me during my recovery and that it was only courteous that I work off my "debt" to him and his fellowship. I would've told him where he could shove those IV bags if he didn't have some of his Judges blocking the way out. I ended up working off my "debt" for the next thirteen months.

_**How did the Fellowship manage to survive out in the open in the Midwest?**_

As you've mentioned before, the Fellowship of the Pure was located in Kanorado, Kansas, just a county away from the Colorado border. The town was practically in the middle of goddamn nowhere and the prewar population was less than 200 people.3 As you could imagine, the isolation made it perfect for setting up the Fellowship, as the low prewar population meant little to no Zack within a 15-mile radius and the wide open space made building housing for the hundreds of followers almost a nonissue. Of course, that's not to say they didn't make any safety precautions. With the military equipment they managed to scavenge up while they made their pilgrimage from Chicago, they set up a fortified perimeter around that old town.

_**How did the Fellowship acquire its military equipment?**_

Your guess is as good as mine. If I had to make a guess, they probably came across some military weapons and vehicles left abandoned when some attempt by the U.S. government to wipe out a zombie horde went FUBAR.

I once tried to get some answers out of the others in the Fellowship, but all they told was "the Vicar prayed and God provided." After getting the same answer the seventh time, I stopped caring.

_**What was life like in Kanorado? Was there any form of hierarchy or bureaucracy in the Fellowship?**_

Fitzgerald, the Vicar, ran the entire show, and had his most loyal followers, the Bishops, managed the bureaucracy within the Fellowship; they were the ones who assigned the jobs to the men and women, which Fitzgerald called his Parish, in accordance with traditional Christian roles.

The men worked as carpenters, farmers, machinists, doctors, fence builders, and scavengers. Scavengers had the most dangerous job: going into the surrounding towns and cities looking for any food, supplies, and weapons they could find. They sometimes didn't come back for weeks…and many never came back at all. The most physically built of the men, the Judges, were assigned as patrolmen of Kanorado and the personal army of "His Holiness Vicar Fitzgerald"; they were above the Parish but below the Bishops. It wasn't uncommon to see them swinging their weight around, cutting in line for food and beating anyone who looked at them wrong.

Women worked as cooks, seamstresses, maids, wet nurses, and other "womanly occupations." They were expected to take a man—any man—as a husband, as it was "what God wished for the all of His daughters," as that cunt Fitzgerald put it. Being the leader of the Fellowship and all, he was obviously the only one allowed to have multiple wives, as he wished his descendants to be "as plentiful as those of Abraham." I had the good fortune of not having a wife; the men outnumbered the women two to one, so there weren't too many to go around.

The women weren't allowed to leave their homes unless they were in the company of their husbands or another woman; they weren't allowed to do man's work unless they were short-handed in the fields; they weren't allowed to speak unless spoken to; they weren't allowed to speak of any abuses within their household, and if they got out of line, their husbands had to publicly beat them into submission—the keywords being "had to." **[He quotes Fitzgerald with a mockingly pious voice.]** "If a husband does not take it upon himself to make sure his wife is obedient to him and to the laws of God and the Fellowship, it shall then fall upon the Judges to take up his burden." I remember one time a young woman, probably around my age back then, was caught trying to steal some produce from the community kitchen. Her husband, a frail, Parkinson's-ridden seventy-year-old man could barely lift his spoon to eat soup, much less beat his wife. One of the Judges "disciplined" her for the old man, swinging a shovel to the back of her head so hard her right eye shot out of its socket. I can still remember the way her eye dangled about, still attached to the optic nerve. Poor thing went blind.

No one was allowed to leave Kanorado, of course—not if they weren't scavengers, anyway. As Fitzgerald had always put it, "he who wanders off from God's Light and His Fellowship shall suffer the fires of Hell in life and in death." Anyone who was caught trying to escape was burned them in a soundproof urn-shaped building we called Nebuchadnezzar's Furnace so the glow of burning flesh and wooden crucifixes and screams wouldn't attract Zack. **[Bill takes a long drink of his beer.]**

_**Did the Fellowship ever have any run-ins with zombie attacks?**_

Only three times while I was in Kanorado. There was one time—back before Fitzgerald had the good sense to put up metal fences instead of chain-linked fences—when a swarm of, I want to say 30 of them, got through a hole that someone failed to fix up. Zack got about five of us—one of them was Fitzgerald's favorite wife. At that point of the Great Panic, everyone knew no medicine could cure reanimation after dead. Fitzgerald, on the other hand, had a solution. You see, back when he hosted a religious podcast in Cincinnati, he preached his wholehearted belief that the gay could be prayed away. So with that logic, so too could the zombie virus be prayed away. Nobel Prize-winning stuff! **[Bill laughs then takes a drink.]** He gathered everyone in the chapel room and had us pray for hours for the five bitten until they finally stopped breathing. Fitzgerald's wife was the first to come back until we all saw him bash her skull in with a candelabrum. He had the Judges do the other four in with axes before they could come back. He became belligerent, blaming us for not having enough faith in God to save his beloved wife. Our rations were cut in half for 40 days as punishment.

The second run-in happened four months later. There was no swarm, but only a single Zack, at least we all thought. One of the Bishops, a piece-of-shit wife-beater named Paul Kaufman, revisited Fitzgerald's theory of "praying the plague away" by reading scriptures from the Book of Mark to Zack. To no one's admitted surprise, he got bit and Zack was shot down by a Judge. What _did_ come to everyone's surprise was that he didn't turn.

After investigating the issue, Fitzgerald came to the conclusion that one became immune to the plague if he had sex with a virgin, as Kaufman had fucked his new young wife after his last one mysteriously died in her sleep.4 What happened next…well…let's just say there was a lot of screaming later that night…and a lot of babies being born around the same time. **[He finishes his second beer with a long swig and opens another.]** Had we known of quislings, I would have called Fitzgerald out on his bullshit then and there.

_**And the third time?**_

A swarm of at least ten times the size as the first one was trying to get through the eastern-most side of Kanorado. By that time, we'd replaced the shoddy chain link fences with eight-foot-high metal plate fences reinforced with concrete foundations which worked in the past. But the walls were tin sloppily welded scraps of old car engine hoods, flattened tin cans, and rusted sheet metal. It worked well for holding off one or two zombies, but the combined physical force of some three hundred Zack, unhindered by cognitive restraint, would have burst through like a finger through a wet napkin. Some of the Judges went to try to hold the fence up, thinking they now had immunity from infection and protection from God. Those stupid fucks were the first to get mauled to death by the invading swarm.

Chaos erupted throughout the whole goddamn town; people screaming, trying to run to the safety of their homes, cracks of gunfire that would only draw more of Zack to them, mothers mercy-killing their babies, and poor saps desperately pleading to God to send Angels to lift them to salvation as Zack tore their stomachs open. In the panic, I decided then was a good time to get the hell out of there. My plan was to make my way to the western-most side of Kanorado, break into the garage, steal one of them military trucks they had stored away, and ram my way through the wall and keep on going west. I was just about to get the keys from the wall hangers when four Judges dragged two women into an office building connected to the garage. I hid in a tool shed before they could see me. The Judges were covered in blood and the black liquid; their expressions were that of wild all-eyed desperation. They must've been bit or at the very least got that black shit in their mouths and eyes. Two of the Judges forced one woman into a corner with their rifles pointed at her so she wouldn't try to run. The other two…

**[Bill stares off. There is a long pause.]**

_**You don't want to talk about that if—**_

No. It's ok. **[He takes a deep breath and a long drink.]** The other two Judges pinned the other woman—no, it was a girl, couldn't have been any older than sixteen…they pinned her down on a table and…tried to save themselves from becoming infected. They gagged her with a ripped piece of her dress so she wouldn't scream. **[His face is now blank, void of emotion, and his voice now in monotone. His keeps his gaze from mine.]** It didn't even matter that those who thought themselves immune got fucking killed. They had a single hair of hope and they clung to it.

After they were done with her, they choked her to death, probably to save ammo for Zack and…went on to the other woman. She tried to fight back at first, but…there's only some much such a small woman could do against four apes in uniform. Her head was held down by one Judge and she…she saw me watching her through a crack in the tool shed door.

**[His voice becomes softly quiet.]**

Her eyes were full of pleading. "Save me, stranger! Don't let these fucking animals do this to me!" What could I have done? Grab a hammer or a wrench from the tool shed, rushed the Judges, save the woman, and drive off into the night with her? **[He forces a chuckle.]** And maybe we'd even fall in love and start a family, telling the story about how Mommy and Daddy met in the middle of fucking Armageddon, like in those Hollywood movies?

**[He covers his mouth with a fist to stifle a sob and tightly squeezes his eyes in an attempt to stop the tears.]**

I wanted to live so badly. I wanted to go back home. I wanted to get as far away from that fucking place as possible. And because I wanted to live, I…closed my eyes and covered my ears…

**[Bill drops his beer on the floor and covers his face, crying.]**

I'm glad I never found out what happened to my parents. I'm glad I never married. I'm glad I'll never have children. It means they'll never have to hear the story of how I let two women die because I was too much of a fucking coward to at least die trying to save them. Keith Fitzgerald. I hope he's burning in Hell.

1 During the Great Panic, the Golden Gate Bridge was blown apart as a way to keep the zombie hordes from swarming into San Francisco from both sides. Reconstruction of the bridge employed over 2,000 workers from the DeStRes program over the course of three years.

2 Before the war, Pastor Creflo Dollar set up a fundraiser to pay for a Gulfstream G650 private jet worth 65 million USD.

3 The population of Kanorado before the Zombie War was only 153 total residents. Bill has since told me Keith Fitzgerald was most likely born in Kanorado if he knew where to set up the Fellowship during the Great Panic.

4 Though he does not know for sure, Bill has stated that Kaufman's wife may have died of ADS.


End file.
